Otis Redding: These Arms of Mine, 1962
Today, like many days, is quite rainy here in North Bay. My weekends are quite like a ritual at this point, I awake at the crack of dawn to drive an hour to work a brunch shift that leaves me feeling perpetually exhausted, emotionally insignificant, and well depressed. The service industry has a way of doing that to people. I understand that we live in this service oriented culture~we spend our time buying things we don’t necessarily need, eating food other people grow and prepare, and well we spend our days working to afford these services, “these conveniences.” Yet, what is convenient about working to spend money on things we could all localize within our system and do ourselves. I suppose that’s what we must consider looking forward into the future of climate change. Don’t get me wrong, I am completely grateful for the time and space made for me at my job. It’s just not a sustainable way of life for anyone. We are feeding a system that does not give a shit about us. We are complacent with a system that destroys us.
What a dilemma.
Today, I had a realization about men as well. Due to the wool being pulled over my eyes and a boy (I would not use the word man for this individual) who would probably be referred to as a good guy, ya know the type. The ones that are in fact not that kind, but use intoxicating words and stories to lure you into this web of trust. There is something beautiful in radical honesty, the act of being vulnerable within weakness, within fuck ups, within an all encompassing you. That is what needs to catch fire in dating society. And perhaps polyamory ;) since most harm seems to dwell in the fact we expect all of our intimacy and love to dwell in a single individual. Just a thought.
ANYWAY. I am going to go work on my quilt & plan my flower farm.